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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831111">Bows and Bullets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched'>farfetched</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Olympics, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, alternate sport - shooting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi has known Kageyama since they were young, although he hasn't seen him in a while, not since he started getting successful in shooting, that pin-point accuracy helping him climb the ranks and win competitions easily. <br/>With the Olympics in Japan, seeing him compete seems all too easy. Off the range, getting to know him again isn't ever as simple... especially with his feelings refusing to die down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kageyama Tobio/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Olympics Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bows and Bullets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Involves Olympic shooting, therefore mentions of guns, no gun violence mentioned at all.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He heard about Kageyama being selected for the Olympic shooting team—after all, who hadn’t? The paltry small town they both herald from has been whispering, shouting and singing about it so much, even underneath a rock he couldn’t fail to have heard. </p>
<p>What to do about it, though, is another matter. It’s not like he’s estranged from Kageyama, but they don’t speak that much. Whenever Kageyama’s in town they’ll catch up in a quiet sort of way, but Kageyama has always been terrible over the phone, and texting is even worse. He’s better in person, even if that’s not saying all that much. Kageyama just isn’t that social. He’s gotten a bit better for sure, but being social never has been and likely never will be one of his skills. </p>
<p>Hitting every clay target? Manageable, for Kageyama. Doing a post-shoot interview? Less so. </p>
<p>So he havers over it, what to do. If Kageyama thought about it, he’ll know there’s no way that Tadashi won’t have heard. But that’s <i>if</i> he thinks about it. Which… isn’t a given. Tadashi wonders a lot about whether Kageyama thinks about him. It always gets to a dead end. Kageyama has guns and targets on his brain, 24/7. There probably isn’t room for anything else, least of all anyone not at a high level in their own sport. Especially not someone who turned down a possibility to go further in their sport. </p>
<p>Not that it would have worked out particularly well for him. </p>
<p>Tadashi sighs, and drops his head for a moment. What the hell. He’s got nothing to lose. He knows Kageyama doesn’t overthink things like this. </p>
<p>‘<i>Hey, congrats on getting chosen for the Olympics!</i>’ is what he eventually sends after several drafts. He puts the phone down and shifts off the sofa, since Kageyama takes hours to respond most of the time. He shoves his archery kit in his bag, planning to go after college. </p>
<p>The phone pings while he’s brushing his teeth, and he wanders over to it with his toothbrush sticking out his mouth. His eyebrows rise when he sees the name: <i>Kageyama</i>. Must have caught him looking at his phone. </p>
<p>Opening it, he’s a little apprehensive, even though he’s fairly sure the response isn’t going to be nasty. When it loads, he smiles around his toothbrush. </p>
<p>‘<i>Thanks</i>’ is the only thing on there. </p>
<p>It’s just <i>so</i> like Kageyama. Even travelling the globe in pursuit of better training can’t change such a character as Kageyama. </p>
<p>Tadashi’s kind of glad.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He doesn’t have to put much effort into deciding whether to go, because his mum waves a letter at him excitedly when he returns from the range a few months later. </p>
<p>“We won the raffle for tickets! It’s the whole first session and the final, too, so we should definitely see Tobio-kun in action!” </p>
<p>Tadashi laughs a little, placing his bag down and slipping his shoes off before plucking the letter from her hands. She grins merrily whilst he reads the content, which largely describes how to obtain the tickets. But there, it states the events they’ve gotten; the semi-final for volleyball (missed out on the final for that, clearly), and the two sessions of skeet clay shooting. </p>
<p>“I wonder if he’ll come back here before the event… Maybe we could make a banner for him? You could invite him for dinner, Tadashi, help him get settled back into Japanese food. Must be difficult, away from it all for so long.” His mum nods like it’s a done deal. Tadashi snorts. </p>
<p>“I’ve got no idea if he’s going to be coming back here before. If he does, it’ll probably just be quick, just to visit his parents,” he murmurs. Kageyama hasn’t mentioned much about it, although they’ve shared a few texts since he found out. It’s still nearly a year away in any case. Kageyama’s never been a home-bird, not like him; he’s only really been home for O-bon a few times in his years of traveling. </p>
<p>Tadashi might actually have seen him more than his own parents, although it’s not saying much. It’s not like he could help it if Kageyama randomly decided to go to one archery competition he so happened to compete in. It’s also not like he had any control in Kageyama stiltedly inviting him out for a meal afterwards (even though Tadashi had only come third, that time), or that he’d not had time to go back and see his parents due to flying out early the next morning. </p>
<p>It’s only happened three times in the last three years—only because Kageyama happened to be in the country at the time. In any case, it’s Kageyama’s choice to see his parents or not—it was his uncle and grandpa that got him into shooting as a sport anyway, and Tadashi is vaguely aware that his parents weren’t entirely supportive of that decision. He’s never asked Kageyama about the situation. He appreciates the random early morning pictures of a nice sunrise or whatever, the sporadic conversations, and questions little, thinks a lot. Life is easier that way. Mostly. </p>
<p>His mum huffs. “Well, you can ask anyway. He said he liked my cooking last time,” she says, putting her hands on her hips victoriously. “Imagine that, making a meal for an Olympic athlete… Maybe I ought to ask his coach if that’s okay…” </p>
<p>Tadashi chuckles, and pats her shoulder as he walks past her. <br/>“I’m pretty sure he won’t have time to swing by Miyagi, mum. Don’t get your hopes up too high.” </p>
<p>“I can dream, Tadashi. Ask him anyway. Tell him he’s always welcome here, any time.” </p>
<p>Tadashi rolls his eyes, but does so anyway. </p>
<p>Kageyama replies weirdly quickly that he’ll see if he can visit nearer the time, and thank you for the offer. His mum grins widely, and makes him do the washing up for doubting her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A week before the Olympics. Ten days before the first shooting sessions. The whole of Japan is alight with talk about it, the torch relay making its rounds, Tadashi seeing someone he barely knows running it through their little town, feeling the faint sense of being something bigger and being entirely separate from it, as well. </p>
<p>It could have been Kageyama, running with it. Tadashi doesn’t know if he got invited. </p>
<p>But he did get invited to Tadashi’s house, by decree of his mum; and on the doorstep, he stands, alone. </p>
<p>Tadashi just surveys him, stunned. It’s been so long; Kageyama seems taller still, taking up most of the space in their doorway. He’s changed his hair, cutting his fringe shorter, out of his eyes like it used to be, forehead now visible. The hoodie he wears despite the temperature isn’t baggy enough to hide the build of his shoulders. Evidently, he’s been training harder than ever—not exactly a surprise. </p>
<p>His presence here is though. </p>
<p>“Uh, hi,” Tadashi croaks. Kageyama frowns, tilting his head slightly. </p>
<p>“I texted,” he states, apparently puzzled at Tadashi’s confusion, and pulls his phone out, pressing a few buttons, before his face flits to understanding. He turns the phone around to show Tadashi; it’s a text addressed to him, simply stating ‘on my way’ with a rough estimate of his arrival time, a little earlier than the current time, and then in the corner, the little aeroplane. Tadashi smiles. </p>
<p>“Airplane mode, huh,” Tadashi murmurs. That seems equally like Kageyama as the contents of the text. Communication, never quite his forte. Kageyama nods, and shifts his weight to his other foot, allowing Tadashi view of a large suitcase behind him, and making him realise both that he’s in the way, and hasn’t invited Kageyama in. Stepping to one side, he waves his hand in the direction of the living room. “Oh, sorry, come in. Must be a long journey! Which airport did you fly into?” he babbles, only just noting the brief glimpse of relief on Kageyama’s face. </p>
<p>Kageyama releases his luggage and wraps his arms around Tadashi. </p>
<p>Tadashi freezes, arms trapped by his side, stunned. His heart judders in his chest, his mind automatically noting the latent strength in those arms, the warmth of it, the smell of a caffeine drink. It seems to last a long time, but Kageyama actually releases him fairly swiftly. He catches Tadashi’s stunned face, and snorts. </p>
<p>“The host family did lots of hugs. Got in the habit,” Kageyama explains with a shrug, although he averts his eyes and swiftly goes to grab his bag. Tadashi’s brain doesn’t catch up immediately, and he just watches Kageyama do it instead of helping. </p>
<p>“Uh, no worries,” he mumbles, then at a questioning glance from Kageyama, he clears his throat, hoping it might calm himself down. It fails. “Um, just put the luggage there, we’ll sort rooms later. Shoes on the rack. Drink?” </p>
<p>Kageyama hums, and moves to follow the instructions with a faint awkwardness, perhaps borne of several years spent largely outside of Japan. “Milk, please.” </p>
<p>Tadashi bites back a smile. Some things never change, he thinks to himself, recalling hundreds of school lunches spent with Kageyama, having his cafeteria meal and a carton of milk. </p>
<p>Some things never change. <i>Some things</i>, he warns himself, as his eyes linger on the jeans Kageyama wears, tight enough to show the results of serious training. <i>Some things</i>, he growls to himself as he drags himself away to make said drink. </p>
<p>It’s never been a secret to Tadashi that since high school, Kageyama has been pretty attractive. Maybe not necessarily conventionally, and certainly not like a model, but as an athlete? He’d seen girls watching him in physical education, chattering about it—like they did for most of the better athletes at school. It’s only increased, the awkward sharpness of his teenage years softening to an icy charm, and particularly now Kageyama seems to have trained himself out of the serial killer looks and shot back to plain old <i>killer</i> looks… It’s never really stopped having an effect on Tadashi. </p>
<p>Pausing while the kettle boils, he groans into his hands quietly. What a <i>disaster</i>. Tsukishima would be laughing at him right now, which just means that Tadashi is infinitely glad he’s still off at college doing an extra project. He takes a deep breath in, then out through his fingers. He can do this. Kageyama will only be around for a little while, after all; just making good on an invitation his mum made him send about having dinner before the Olympics, then he’ll go back to his home or wherever he’s staying tonight. His mum will be back soon, and then her flapping over him will surpass Tadashi’s. Perfect. </p>
<p>“Are you alright?” comes a voice from behind him. Tadashi spins around to find Kageyama frowning at him, hands shoved in his pockets. </p>
<p>“Fine! Fine. How was your flight?” He asks, as he turns back once more to check on the kettle. It’s not done, he can hear that, but while he’s still unsettled, watching water boil will be fine. Kageyama hums, and Tadashi hears him shift. </p>
<p>“Crying children and bad films. Not enough sleep.” <br/>“I thought they did better films nowadays. The children can’t be helped though. Guess they’re coming over for the Olympics too, huh.” Tadashi babbles, turning the kettle slightly on its stand. Kageyama huffs loudly. <br/>“I don’t watch anything which might have guns in. They always use them wrong. That left romance films.” Tadashi nods. Kageyama hasn’t ever been much of a film fan, but Tadashi can’t see him watching romance, even in the depths of boredom. Mind you, on a long flight, sometimes those depths can be surpassed. “They hated each other. Why was it a romance movie.” </p>
<p>Tadashi can’t help but snort. <br/>“You can’t analyse romance movies, Kageyama. They never make much sense. They’re always much cleaner than real life, anyway.” He says, remembering about the milk. Striding to the fridge, he assesses the amount they have; enough for one glass or so, but probably best to get some more in case Kageyama drops around again tomorrow. He quickly shoots off a text to his mum asking her to get more, letting her know that Kageyama has arrived. Hopefully she gets it before she leaves work. The kettle finally clicks off and quiets down, and Tadashi rummages for a glass while he waits for the tea to brew. </p>
<p>“Is that from experience?” </p>
<p>He doesn’t drop the glass, but he flinches. Pouring the milk, he takes that time to school his face into something less incriminating, then turns to face Kageyama, false grin on show. <br/>“I guess partly, but you don’t really need it to see that romance films are all fantasy. Life’s kinda easier without, to be honest,” he states, pushing the glass into Kageyama’s hands. For a pan person such as himself, all the romance apart from towards women is too complicated. Even the attraction to women isn’t that simple. </p>
<p>“I… guess.” Kageyama’s tone sounds off, but Tadashi can’t—doesn’t really want to—work it out. He returns to the brewing tea. </p>
<p>“Where were you flying from again?” he asks, sweeping the awkwardness away. If he forgets about it, maybe it’ll disappear. </p>
<p>It’s not happened yet, but there’s a first time for everything. He just needs to ignore it while Kageyama is visiting, anyway.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Yamaguchi-san,” Kageyama murmurs once they’ve returned to the lounge with tea and some puddings his mum picked up with the extra milk. “Could I stay here? My parents’ house isn’t that big, and my sister is already staying with her partner.” </p>
<p>Tadashi halts mid-spoon of pudding, watching as it slithers off back into the cup. What does that mean? Don’t Olympic athletes get hotel rooms at the drop of a hat? </p>
<p>His mum, oblivious to his surprise, brightens at the thought. <br/>“Of course! We don’t have a spare room, but Tadashi’s room is big enough to take a futon. Oh, but make sure you go and see them before you go down to Tokyo, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you!” Kageyama grunts in begrudging agreement. His mum turns to him. "That's alright, isn't it Tadashi?" </p>
<p>She's doing this on purpose, he's sure. There's just a hint of a devious glint in her eyes, especially considering they could just make either him or Kageyama sleep in the lounge on a futon. He's about to tell her that when he glances at Kageyama watching him—dare he say hopeful? It doesn't quite seem like his normal unenthused look, certainly. Kageyama has forgotten about his pudding, lying in his lap, not even open. That alone is unlike him. Mentally, Tadashi sighs. This could be hell. Outwardly, he smiles cordially, and promises himself to tell his mum off later. </p>
<p>"Yeah, why not? I'll tidy up a bit first though," he says, thinking about the clothes he's not yet put away. Anything incriminating. He doesn't think he's got anything daft like posters of Kageyama. Maybe a picture or two that he's sent, but they're just pretty. Kageyama probably won't even realise, he's never been that observant. </p>
<p>Kageyama nods, although he seems faintly victorious, leaning back into his chair and smiling at his pudding as he opens it. </p>
<p>Tadashi retrieves the fallen bit of pudding, and holds it in his mouth, irritated with himself. It's not like there haven't been other candidates for his affection, people that he thought he might be able to get on with, go out with, maybe even come to love. But always, his mind feels like it circles back to Kageyama, and any interest isn't sustained beyond a bit of fooling around. Never enough to forget. Their hair is just as black, but faintly wavy, their eyes kinder. The soft curves she carries are beautiful, yet somehow he always finds himself yearning for something more solid. He's had enough dreams of drowning in Kageyama that he can't forget. </p>
<p>Dreams based entirely in fantasy. Kageyama doesn't seem like the kind of person to fall in love, so removed from romance and dating. As far as Tadashi knows, he's not had a partner at all. Kageyama would be more interested in a person strapped to a target, to try and shoot around them, than merely standing in front of him. </p>
<p>How can it be so long and still not have withered? </p>
<p>"Is the pudding okay, Tadashi?" Glancing up, he finds his mum peering at him. "You were frowning at it, is all…" <br/>"No, it's fine. Just thinking," he mutters, eating another spoon to prove his point. <br/>"Ah, alright. You have had a long day. I bet you get up early to run and shoot too, Kageyama-kun!" <br/>He nods, and turns to Tadashi. </p>
<p>"What time you get up?" <br/>"Five or six or so, depends. I bet you run further though." He wouldn’t expect his exercise regime to match up to that of an Olympic athlete’s, after all. He just likes the freedom of running, the wind on his face, and with Tsukishima in a semi-pro volleyball team, he would hate to be left too far behind. </p>
<p>"10k," Kageyama states, then thinks about it, "At least, that's what coach tells me to run…" <br/>“So you’re basically saying you go <i>way</i> further, huh?” Kageyama pouts at the floor. Too adorable. And Tadashi hates that he thinks it. <br/>“It depends…” <br/>His mum laughs merrily. “Just like you to push yourself! Perhaps you two could run together tomorrow, the weather’s meant to be pleasant. Why, if I was the running type, I’d join you!” </p>
<p>Kageyama brightens. This. This is the problem, isn’t it? Kageyama being more natural with him than Tadashi ever sees him on television, catching interviews where he can. Kageyama in front of a microphone is stilted, nervous, even dull – rather be anywhere else. Kageyama here is a living creature, with facial expressions and chatter and fitting in and looking every bit like he belongs. </p>
<p>“If you promise not to run me into the ground, I guess we could,” Tadashi mumbles, and stuffs another spoon of pudding in his mouth, mainly to stop himself from smiling at the small grin his comment induces in Kageyama. </p>
<p>“Glad to see you two getting on so well!” his mum announces. “I’ll let you off the dishes for tonight, Tadashi. You can entertain Kageyama-kun,” she says, as she stands, smiling. “Let me know if you need anything, although Tadashi can certainly help you with most things!” she tells Kageyama, who nods. Once she’s gone, Tadashi goes blank for a second, glancing around the room, then spots the game console under the TV, and smirks. </p>
<p>“Hey, Kageyama. You gotten any better at dog-fighting since you were last here?” </p>
<p>Kageyama looks puzzled for a second, until Tadashi swoops two remotes from the cabinet, and points it at him. Then, he grins savagely. <br/>“Of course I have. You won’t win.” <br/>“We’ll see about that! I think you’re only good with real guns, you know.” Tadashi throws him the remote, and goes about setting up the game. It feels almost like he’s gone back in time three years or so. </p>
<p>He bets himself that he can still beat Kageyama in most of these games, like he always used to.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“How are you only good at the ski-jumping?!” Tadashi half-shouts, half-laughs, wheezing with it. Dog-fighting, Frisbee golf, normal golf, tennis, water-skiing, nearly everything else that they’d played, he’d won. Ski jumping was the only thing Kageyama could reliably win at, and win by a long way. It didn’t make any sense. Kageyama grins grimly, his high-score being proudly displayed on screen, and Tadashi’s avatar moping, unlike the other times. </p>
<p>“The physics are weird on all the rest! And I’m good at holding positions,” he points out moodily. He flops next to Tadashi on the sofa, his knee brushing against Tadashi’s. <br/>“Just admit you’re no good at games, Kageyama! Besides, you have a chance to win an actual medal in a few days, you don’t need to mope over virtual ones!” </p>
<p>Kageyama is competitive at everything, of course. He’s not someone who likes losing, otherwise he might not be where he is. And he does win at most sporting endeavours; he’d been sought by nearly all of the sporting clubs at school. Academically, Tadashi always wins, so games is about the only thing where in theory, they’re on a level playing field. </p>
<p>In theory. </p>
<p>Tadashi has probably had a bit more practice, but he’s not sure he’s touched this since Kageyama was last around, a year or two back. How have things not yet changed? </p>
<p>“If the physics are bad, how can anyone win with skill?” Kageyama complains, scowling at the game console. </p>
<p>He leans back into the sofa, still laughing to himself. “There’s a certain skill involved… you just don’t have it!” he remarks, looking at Kageyama. He’s pouting. It’s a little hard to believe this man is ten days away from a chance of a medal in the Olympics, but then, Kageyama is good at that—being totally in focus when he’s interested in something. Come time for the competition, losing at video games won’t impinge on his brain, totally filled with staring down a gun and calling for targets, and sniping them like he was born to do it. </p>
<p>Tadashi feels strangely honoured to be trusted with this side of him. Or maybe Kageyama is like this with other people, and Tadashi isn’t so special after all. <br/>“Anyway, want to watch a film? So you can heal from your humiliating defeat?” Kageyama glares at him, but Tadashi’s known him long enough to see that there’s not much heat in it. <br/>“This isn’t finished,” he states haughtily, “I will beat you. Another day.” </p>
<p>Another day. He plans on coming back? </p>
<p>Tadashi assures himself it’s probably just one of those things he says in the heat of the moment, like randomly inviting him out for dinner whenever they see each other. Instead of dwelling on it as his brain wants, he grabs a selection of films that Kageyama might like. He goes for the over-the-top animated ones mainly, although there’s a kids film or two in there from when he was younger. He discounts anything like thrillers and action movies, since Kageyama will just get too annoyed about the lack of kickback and unsafe use of guns. It can be fun, but Tadashi thinks something a bit more relaxing for Kageyama is probably better right now. He offers them to Kageyama, and makes them a tea whilst he chooses. </p>
<p>“This one…” Kageyama asks, holding one out to him. It’s one of the animated ones, and as far as Tadashi recalls, mainly set in an electronic fantasy world within the film. “Any good?” <br/>“If you’re asking about the guns, there might be some in the fantasy world. Can’t remember too well. I don’t pick up on them as much as you. I think it was okay?” </p>
<p>Kageyama shrugs, and yawns as he passes it over to Tadashi. Once it’s all set up and playing, Tadashi considers the seating options briefly—he <i>could</i> sit in the armchair, but it’s his mum’s and he feels weird about sitting there, even if she’s not using it. Besides, it might look odd <i>not</i> to sit next to Kageyama at this point. He sits back down next to Kageyama, and passes him his tea, noting the light starting to bleed out of the sky outside. Not too late then. They can watch this, then sleep. </p>
<p>Things are just starting to get more serious in the film when he feels a pressure against his side. Glancing over, he’s greeted by a mop of jet black hair on his shoulder, and a slight snoring. </p>
<p>What exactly is he meant to do with this? </p>
<p>If it was Tsukishima, what would he do? </p>
<p>Probably just let it happen. But then Tsukishima doesn’t make his heart race, like it’s doing now. Tsukishima brushing against him doesn’t make him freeze up like Kageyama does. He wouldn’t be so stuck on the warmth of it, the casualness of it, had it been Tsukishima. Although Tsukishima probably wouldn’t have deigned to fall asleep on him. Kageyama probably wouldn’t normally, but he has been flying, and he said he hadn’t had much sleep… </p>
<p>Tadashi groans to himself. He’s too nice to wake him up, too weak to try and stop it happening or change the course of this. </p>
<p>Submitting himself to his fate, he tries to focus on the movie. He half succeeds.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next morning, only vaguely recalling shifting to the futon upstairs, telling Kageyama to take the bed in case he pulls any muscles sleeping on the floor, Tadashi is prodded awake at an early hour, and finds himself groggily staring up at an unerringly awake Kageyama. </p>
<p>“You still going on a run with me?” Kageyama asks. Tadashi fumbles around for his phone, finally finding the time: half four. Earlier than he’d normally get up, if he’s honest. Although the warmth is starting to gather, and the futon is getting a little too hot. Combined with Kageyama’s hopeful look, Tadashi never really stood much chance. He sits up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. </p>
<p>“Yeah, fine. Gimme a sec.” </p>
<p>When they get out, the sky is just turning from night, lightening up in the eastern sky. Kageyama leads, his lithe form cutting neatly through the air. He must slow down a little for Tadashi, even though he doesn’t say anything about it. Tadashi is happy enough to follow behind, allowing him a rare opportunity to observe Kageyama in action. It’s all efficiency of movement, minimum wastage. Elegant. Whilst his speech and social skills have always been lacking, Kageyama in motion is a thing to behold. </p>
<p>Tadashi doesn’t think they’ve run together that much. He’s seen Kageyama running in school, splitting his time between cross-country and archery, as there was no club for shooting at school, unsurprisingly. But that’s always been from a distance; from here, a metre or two behind, he can see every shift of his muscles, every twitch of his head, the glances around. They stop at a train crossing and Tadashi watches as the train headlights illuminate Kageyama’s features, lights shifting until they sweep away into the night, leaving only a transient wind of displacement. </p>
<p>Tadashi could get used to this. </p>
<p>Shame, really, that he’s not going to be able to. Kageyama will take off again, no doubt do well at the Olympics, and go even further. World championships, multiple wins, Tadashi is sure. Maybe this is the last time he can do this; the last, and the first. </p>
<p>He gives Kageyama total control on where they go; as such, they go further than Tadashi ever usually goes. Up, and up, one of the mountains overlooking the village, until Kageyama slows to a halt on a bend in the road, and steps up to the crash barrier. Tadashi puts his hands on his knees, folded over somewhat to regain his breath. He’s not unfit, by any stretch—Tsukishima makes certain of that—but Kageyama is another level. Shooting requires stamina, and that includes physical endurance as well as mental. More reasons why Kageyama is so good at it. </p>
<p>Kageyama is still looking out over the valley when he recovers enough to look, and he can’t help it; he takes a photo, even though with the brightening sky behind him, Kageyama is in silhouette. But as soon as he takes it, it’s one of his favourite photos. </p>
<p>And if he keeps up like this, he’ll never get over this. Shaking his head, he shuts his phone off again, slips it back into his pocket, and steps up to the crash barrier. There’s a faint mist over the valley, soon to be evaporated. Some people in town won’t be up early enough to even see that it existed in the first place, and there’s something magical in it. Tadashi likes this bit about running, seeing the world before it fully awakens, before the latent heat of summer really gets started, before the sun cycles around into day. And now, Kageyama beside him, highlighted in the sunrise light, it only feels even more magical. How many people get to see him like this? </p>
<p>Kageyama spots him looking; Tadashi quickly averts his gaze back to the valley, but Kageyama turns to face him. <br/>“Yamaguchi… Are you… going to be watching?” Kageyama asks hesitantly. Tadashi snorts. <br/>“Yeah, we got tickets. They probably prioritised us since we live in Miyagi, huh?” Now he’s just babbling. Why is he nervous? “Is that going to mess up your flow?” <br/>“No!” Kageyama shouts, then huffs. “No, it’ll be good. I don’t usually have anyone I really know watching. Except Coach.” <br/>“Mum’s going to make a banner, just you wait. I don’t know if they’re allowed, but she’ll make one. Quite a few neighbours are going too, so hopefully we don’t put you off.” </p>
<p>Kageyama pauses for a second. <br/>“I’ll win the gold, with you watching. I’ll do it. Just wait,” Kageyama asserts; Tadashi can believe him. He smacks him lightly on the arm.<br/>“Of course you are. You’d do it even without us there.” It’s not like Kageyama to rely on anyone else, after all. It’ll work out. Tadashi will still congratulate him on his performance, no matter how he does; just getting selected is an impossible obstacle to most. “Now, we running back down this hill, or over and down the other side?” </p>
<p>“Yamaguchi?” When he turns to find the problem, Kageyama is making an odd expression at the floor, and a faint blush seems to highlight his cheeks. Surely it’s just the red sunrise reflecting on him; there’s just no way. He seems to find his resolve, and suddenly looks at Tadashi, clenching his fists by his sides. “Will you– come congratulate me? If I win?” </p>
<p>The way he’s asking, makes it sound like he might be asking something else. As Tadashi has no clue as to what that question is, he’s left to answering the one he’s actually been asked. He smiles widely. </p>
<p>“Of course I will!” </p>
<p>Such an odd question. But Kageyama looks pleased with his answer; there’s an extra bounce in his step as he leads the two of them over the mountain and around. Tadashi is tired later, and doesn’t have time to go to the range before work, but he can’t even be angry at that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Kageyama leaves while he’s at work, sending him a quick text explaining he’s been asked to attend the Olympic Village. Tsukishima rolls his eyes when he mentions Kageyama, so he doesn’t say much about it; he sets that backlit photo as his home screen, certain that Kageyama will never see it, and hoping it’s obscure enough for no one to recognise it. </p>
<p>After that, it feels like no time at all until the events. The opening ceremony is a grand spectacle, and Tadashi just about manages to pick Kageyama out from all the parading athletes. His coach must have made him go, Tadashi thinks, chuckling to himself – it’s just not a Kageyama thing to attend of his own accord. He’ll have to ask how it went, he thinks; but then he doesn’t want to bother Kageyama, so he doesn’t end up sending anything. </p>
<p>All too soon, the first heat has come and gone; unluckily, it wasn’t Kageyama’s, so Tadashi spends a large amount of it in a heat-induced daze, ambiently listening and watching the guns go off and targets explode into colour in the sky, or land without a scratch. It’s hard to keep up with scores, especially since he’s not so invested in these people, no Japanese competitors here. They’re good, sure, but he just doesn’t find them captivating. </p>
<p>Although, he sternly tells himself, he shouldn’t be finding <i>anyone</i> captivating to watch. </p>
<p>Back home, he catches the rounds Kageyama competes in on record, hours afterwards, or by furtive glances at his phone during his part-time job, and sends him quick little congratulatory messages when it goes well. Kageyama seems pleased with them, from what he can tell. </p>
<p>Finally, the day of the finals rolls around. Tadashi’s nerves are on edge the whole way to Tokyo, jangling more with every stop they get closer. The train fills with people as they draw nearer, and Tokyo itself is even fuller than usual, barely room to breathe as he and his mum switch trains onto the metro, and at last end up at their destination and find their seats at long last. </p>
<p>There’s an indoor area where the athletes can sit off to one side, with all their stuff, towels and water and such, then the field in front of them. Serendipitously, the rest area is visible from their seats, particularly noticeable once the athletes themselves walk in and get introduced. </p>
<p>Kageyama waves, but he’s squinting against the sun, scanning the crowd. </p>
<p>Tadashi wonders if he’s trying to find them; with his adept eyesight, it’s only a matter of time. After all, if he can pick out targets so small at such speed, he can find them in a crowd. And find them he does, locking eyes with Tadashi as the last competitor gets introduced. Tadashi gives him a small wave. Kageyama nods, but even from here, Tadashi sees his shoulders relax a little. His face goes from a scowl to a determined look, as he surveys the field, checks over his gun, his ammo. Every now and then he glances back at Tadashi, and somehow, Tadashi is still watching him every time he does it. </p>
<p>“I think he’s been looking forward to having friends in the crowd,” his mum whispers in his ear. The first contestant is called up to start shooting; Kageyama is number nine. Tadashi sends his mum a withering look. <br/>“I doubt it matters that much to him, mum. He got all this way without that, you know.” She sighs, as though he’s speaking nonsense. <br/>“Why would he keep trying to find you if he didn’t want it? He seemed excited about it when he left ours.” </p>
<p>It is odd, but Tadashi’s decided he’s not going to think too much into it. It’s easier that way. <br/>“Well, hopefully he does well, regardless of us being here,” he mutters, mostly to end the conversation. She’d been remarkably unremorseful about putting them in the same room, saying it was just more comfortable. Tadashi swears she’s caught on, but hopes she hasn’t. </p>
<p>Kageyama keeps looking at him. Before a shot; Tadashi will smile at him encouragingly. After a shot; Tadashi will give him a thumbs up. He’s out at the front, but the English guy, Danny Halewood, is close behind him. </p>
<p>In Station 7, Kageyama drops one. Halewood had dropped one in Station 3, so it puts them even again. Kageyama, even so far away, looks panicked. </p>
<p>It’s Kageyama. The pressure never gets to him, he finds it exciting not a burden, but right now, he looks– </p>
<p>No one is shooting. The crowd is murmuring, and Tadashi is probably too far away, but he stands up, cups his hands around his mouth, draws a deep breath in, and– </p>
<p>“<i>DO IT FOR MIYAGI, KAGEYAMA! WE’RE ROOTING FOR YOU!</i>” </p>
<p>His vocal cords are going to be feeling that for weeks. Everyone in the near vicinity has gone quiet, and Tadashi’s face is completely red, and most of him wants to blend in with the scenery and become invisible—and yet, Kageyama turns his head, and his eyes lock onto Tadashi. </p>
<p>Tadashi would <i>really</i> like to meld with the crowd right now, but he stays standing up through nothing but a stubborn pride. He knows Kageyama can win. He’s got complete faith in the one-track-minded Kageyama, obscenely accurate, stupid in all other aspects of his life, clay-targets-on-the-brain Kageyama. He will win, he can win, if he just keeps his cool and does what Tadashi imagines he does every single day on the range. </p>
<p>Kageyama stares at him for a very long moment—thankfully not his turn to shoot—even while one of his opponents gets their turn to shoot. There is hissing from behind Tadashi that he’s getting in the way. Tadashi stays firm. He needs this message to get through to Kageyama, trying to silently convey with his eyes that belief in him. </p>
<p>Then, Kageyama grins. He doesn’t look any less like a serial killer this time—the effect only compounded by the gun in his hands—but Tadashi grins in relief, and flops back down as Kageyama waits his turn, far more settled than he had been.</p>
<p>When his turn comes around, his face is totally composed. The crowd goes to a hush as he strides to the mark, and Tadashi stops breathing as he knows Kageyama will be doing, holding his breath, controlling it to keep his cool, to put that pin-point focus on the targets, and only them, making room for nothing except from that target, between him and victory. </p>
<p>He calls for the first clay. There’s a moment’s delay before it’s released, but Kageyama moves like lightning, gun snapping into position and target in his sights, he pulls the trigger. A blast of orange in the sky. </p>
<p>A relieved breath. Halewood got both on Station 8. His gold medal rides on this, one clay target between him and victory, and Tadashi is clenching his hands so hard his nails bite into his palms and his skin stretches uncomfortably, but he barely feels it. </p>
<p>Kageyama breathes in, and out, and calls for the last clay. The decider. The wait between the call and the throwing machine activating is excruciating, Tadashi leans forward, lips pressed tightly together, seeing absolutely nothing but Kageyama, ear defenders clamped around his ears, a red spot for Japan, and the field before him. </p>
<p><i>Snap</i>. A clay flies out. Again, he is lightning, gun in place in the blink of an eye, taking no time to line up the shot and shoot. Tadashi keeps holding his breath as he searches the sky, waiting, until– </p>
<p>A bloom of orange. </p>
<p>Kageyama lowers the gun, staring at the orange dissipating, shards of the clay target falling to the ground. </p>
<p>Silence, for a second. Then a roar, the Japanese portion of the crowd letting go of their stoicism; all the people from Miyagi jumping from their seats to clap and cry and cheer. Tadashi is among them, and although he knows that likely his yelling had little to do with it, he feels as though it is partly his victory too. </p>
<p>Probably he’ll go home and never see Kageyama again, swept to even greater heights and fame and pulled far away from a small village in Miyagi, but he thinks the thought that he might have helped on the day will stay with him for a long time. </p>
<p>From the podium, Kageyama’s eyes find him in the crowd, and he smiles again, more warmly this time. </p>
<p>Tadashi feels like that’s recognition, and beams back.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He gets up early the next day, the roar of the crowd and the sound of bullets and Kageyama’s grin flashing too brightly in his mind to allow him sleep. He imagines there was a grand party in the Olympic Village last night for another gold medal for Japan; at home, it had certainly been wild and going on until the early hours, the other villagers regaling the story of Tadashi screeching with bemusement to those who weren’t there to hear it; he gets many claps on the back for it. After all that, he craves the early quiet of the archery range, even if this target will never be hit quite so accurately as those in front of Kageyama. </p>
<p>It’s therapeutic, he supposes, especially now he’s not trying to keep up, and that the expectations of a second Olympic hopeful have died down sufficiently. He’ll still go to some competitions, he thinks, and maybe he’ll even win a few, but archery is about meditation, about focus, about peace. Without the external pressure, he’s come to appreciate that a lot more. </p>
<p>Inhale as he draws the bow back, hold as he holds the string, sights the target and considers the wind. Release once his fingers pull back, watching the arrow soar through the air and hit, or miss, if he hasn’t accounted for the wind enough. It hardly matters at this time of day, when no one is here to watch, and he’s meditating more than shooting. </p>
<p>A scuffle of footsteps draws him from his reverie, and he twists, expecting the range manager, or perhaps another early morning archer seeking quiescence here. When he spots who it is, however, he lowers his bow, stunned. </p>
<p>Kageyama Tobio. </p>
<p>“Kageyama! Congratulations!” Tadashi shouts, too exuberant for this time of day; a crow unseats itself from its tree, cawing unhappily. </p>
<p>Kageyama nods offhandedly. </p>
<p>“I thought you’d still be in Tokyo!” he remarks, hanging the bow on a stand and sauntering closer. “Wasn’t there a huge party?” </p>
<p>“A bit. It wasn’t too big, since not everyone’s finished. I don’t like them anyway,” Kageyama states, muted. Tadashi frowns. <br/>“You don’t seem that happy?” he asks, puzzled. He’s got the gold medal. He’s got what could be said to be the greatest achievement in competitive shooting, and he’s looking… unimpressed? </p>
<p>Kageyama draws in a deep breath, and looks Tadashi in the eye. “Thank you for being there. Thank you for encouraging me. I…” Again, a faint flush across his cheeks; he continues looking straight at Tadashi though. His heart thuds in his chest, as though he looks at the target in the last shoot of a competition, as though it thinks Kageyama might- “I wanted to see you. After.” </p>
<p>“And here you are,” Tadashi murmurs, unable to look away. Kageyama steps closer. <br/>“And here I am. I thought you might be here.” <br/>“Well, I can’t beat you, but I could try. Plus I couldn’t sleep,” he adds, hurriedly. <br/>“Yamaguchi, go out with me.” </p>
<p>Tadashi feels like everything halts. The wind, the sun, the birds; his breathing, every muscle in his body just– <i>stops</i>. </p>
<p>Kageyama did not just say that. There’s no way. Only in his dreams, but he’s not dreaming. The ground is too solid underneath his feet; Kageyama is too there to be dreamed. </p>
<p>“I promised myself I’d ask if I won gold.” Kageyama states. Does that explain the nerves? Kageyama isn’t usually that nervous. But then it was the Olympics, and it was so close. Does Kageyama make these bets with himself? Or just this once? </p>
<p>“Why me?” Tadashi breaths, barely thinking about it. With a gold medal in his safe and looks like that, he could have anyone. Why is he asking a childhood friend from Nowhere, Miyagi, with no achievements to his name? </p>
<p>Kageyama doesn’t even take time to think about it. “Because I like you.” </p>
<p>That brutal honesty, that blunt attitude, the reason for so many fallings out—it shouldn’t sound so cool right now. But maybe it can be that simple. Maybe it is that simple. </p>
<p>“Okay. Yeah. I’ll go out with you, Kageyama,” Tadashi murmurs, hypnotised. Is it that simple? Kageyama scowls. <br/>“If it’s no, tell me.” <br/>“No! It’s most definitely not no! Kageyama, you– ugh, I mean, just– obviously it’s not a no, okay? I’m just– stunned. I was not expecting that at all,” he babbles, his tongue suddenly releasing. He can’t lose this now, just because he can’t act. If he only acts this once, even if it makes him look stupid, he will act. </p>
<p>“You weren’t?” Kageyama actually look shocked. Tadashi laughs heartily. <br/>“Of course I wasn’t! What kind of Olympic gold medallist looks at me twice?” <br/>“Me.” <br/>“Oh my god, you didn’t have to answer!” Tadashi shrieks, face blowing up with heat. It’s too embarrassing to possibly be a dream. “Just– I gotta get used to this, okay? When are you even leaving again? How long do I have?” </p>
<p>“I’m not,” Kageyama says, as though it’s not a huge thing. <br/>“Wait. You’re not? You’re not training elsewhere?” But– he’s always– And yet, Kageyama shakes his head, shrugging. <br/>“There’s trainers here, and ranges. So, you have however long.” </p>
<p>It’s too much. Tadashi steps forward, and rests his head on Kageyama’s chest. “I have not had enough sleep to cope with this much turmoil.” </p>
<p>Kageyama wraps his arms around him, and rests his chin on his head. “Me neither. It’s okay if I stay at yours?” </p>
<p>Tadashi hums in acquiescence. It’ll be all shades of awkward. “Let me stay like this a second first though.” </p>
<p>Kageyama holds him firmly, breathing out slowly. Tadashi’s pressed up against his collarbone; he shakily worms his hands around Kageyama’s waist and returns the hug. If it wasn’t all too real, he’d swear that he was dreaming. It’s only then that he realises something. </p>
<p>“Where’s your medal?” he murmurs. Kageyama doesn’t answer for a second. <br/>“In… my bag?” <br/>“The one you left outside?” Kageyama nods, an odd feeling with his chin still on Tadashi’s head. “The one anyone could have walked off with?” <br/>“It’s too early for stealing. Who’s going to steal a big bag like that?” </p>
<p>Tadashi pulls backwards just so he can look him in the eye. “I don’t think they have spares, you know. You’ve got to keep it safe! Why didn’t you, I dunno, drop it off at your parents? It’s like half an hour down the road.”</p>
<p>That blush is back on his cheek, and he pouts, avoiding Tadashi’s eyes, and mutters something. <br/>“I didn’t hear that,” he remarks. Kageyama scowls more, although with his embarrassment, any venom it had is completely annihilated. <br/>“I wanted to see you first,” he mutters again, louder. He keeps his arms loosely wrapped around Tadashi though, his hands resting on the small of Tadashi’s back. </p>
<p>He’s going out with an idiot. An adorable, one-track minded idiot. Tadashi couldn’t be happier. <br/>“You’re hopeless,” he sighs, completely failing to hide his smile. “Do you want a bouquet of flowers and a kiss, too?” Kageyama goes bright red. Tadashi just laughs, although he’s sure his cheeks warm too. “Later. Once we’ve both had some sleep. Come on, let’s get you and your expensive luggage back home.” </p>
<p>Heading off, he keeps hold of Kageyama’s hand the whole way. It feels right. And so such for thinking the gold medal would be the end of things; it actually ended up being the start. <br/>Tadashi grins, and beside him, Kageyama does the same. </p>
<p>Who knew one gold medal could change two lives?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing them in a different sport. I like to think Hinata is still doing great in volleyball, he's just... not here. There is also art by InDoodle, link to follow shortly!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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